Next chapter:
Chapter 2: BLACKMAIL
PREVIEW
... iew it, it contains vital informations]
A young man sat down on what looked like a squashy armchair inside a typical wooden house; it looked like those houses made in the nineties.
In his hand, which was balanced on the arm of the chair, was a shiny and long golden ancient cup.
His expression was unreadable, and his gaze was fixed somewhere on something with a quite great affinity.
An eerie music, more like a ballad, streamed through the house, and people danced t ...
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